


The Landlord's Punishment

by Maplesyrup



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Game of Thorns, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, Spanking, but not really, flower shop, sort of dubcon, there i ruined the fun, ugh this is going to spoil it but, you'll see why - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2019-05-13 00:30:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14738699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maplesyrup/pseuds/Maplesyrup
Summary: Belle French is late with the rent payment and Mr. Gold is not in the mood for leniency.(Or, this is what happens when you sass mr-r-gold on tumblr)





	1. The Flower Shop

**Author's Note:**

> If light bdsm is not your thing, look away now!

The bell above the door rang cheerfully as Mr. Gold entered the little flower shop. Belle looked up from the counter where she was arranging a birthday bouquet, her heart skipping as she beheld the dark, taciturn landlord filling her doorway.

“Mr. Gold,” she said in clipped tones. “To what do I owe this visit?”

He smirked, walked towards the counter in slow, measured steps.

“Rent day, dearie,” he said, his gold tooth catching the light as he spoke. His eyes flicked down the front of her body with an insolence that boiled her blood. “I trust you have all of it this time?”

She frowned, setting down the small, flower-filled vase in her hands with a thunk.

“Of course I have it.” She glared at him. “I told you last time was a fluke.”

“Only whales have flukes, Miss French.” His smile turned nasty. “Please get my money. I’ll wait.”

She bit the inside of her mouth to prevent an insult from slipping out, contenting herself with a hard roll of her eyes when her back was turned to him. She marched towards the back, shoving the green curtain out of the way that separated the two sections of the store and went to the small safe where they stored each day’s earnings.

She turned the combination dial until the numbers clicked into the correct place and pulled open the small door. She gasped. On the bottom of the safe where there had been a small stack of rubber-banded bills was a small, yellow post it with a scrawled message.

Her heart pounded in fear as she read the short missive.

_Went to the track, love. Back around supper! -Papa_

She crumpled the note in her shaking hand. The rent money was gone, wasted on a bet, and she was surely in the deepest trouble imaginable! What was she to do?

She looked around the back room, desperate for a way out. The lone, high window was tiny but so was she, perhaps she could shimmy through it and escape him? It would no doubt tear the thin fabric of her little summer skirt to shreds. A noise at the front startled her and her eyes shot to the curtain.

Mr. Gold was standing there, one hand pushing back the flimsy green fabric, a dark, evil smile on his face.

“Is there a problem, Miss French?” he growled.

There was truly no hope for it. She was in dire straits and there was no one to save her from her fate. She bit her lip, her eyes darting around one last time in furtive hope for inspiration as to how to extricate herself from her plight. She closed her eyes briefly, praying for mercy.

“I-it’s not here, Mr. Gold.” Her voice came out thin and reedy. She gulped, trying to steady her nerves. “My father took it to the racetrack, see?”

She held out the crumpled note, flinching when he snatched it from her, his eyes running across the hastily written words. He lifted his dark eyes to hers, his penetrating gaze reaching her soul.

“Do you think to cheat me, Miss French?” His growl took on a low rasp, the sound giving a dangerous edge to his words. He stepped towards her, stopping a hairsbreadth away. If she inhaled too deeply, her breasts would brush his chest.

She looked up at him, shaking her head. “No, Mr. Gold. I didn’t know my father would take--”

“Quiet!” he snarled, his breath hitting her face. “I won’t listen to any more excuses.”

She bit her lip, unable to break away from his livid gaze. She saw his eyes flick down to her mouth, that dangerous smile curving his lips once more.

“Perhaps,” he began, bringing up a hand to stroke a finger lightly across her lips. “Perhaps there’s another way to satisfy the debt.”

Belle took his meaning, the suggestive bend of his smile leaving no doubt as to what he demanded. She shook her head, backing away.

“N-no, Mr. Gold. I couldn’t! You can’t ask that of me!”

He followed her, backing her against the wall of the shop.

“Oh, I can and I do, dearie.”

She stopped when her back hit the wall with a thump. He braced his hands on either side of her, trapping her with his body, his silver-grey locks framing his face as he leaned in.

“I will get what is owed to me, whether from your father...or you.”

Her lungs worked hard to draw in air, her heart pounding fit to burst out of her chest.

“What are you going to do to me?” she said, cursing herself for her shaky voice.

He chuckled, the sound low and dark, the dangerous warmth of it sliding down her spine and settling between her legs. He slid a hand up to cup her jaw, his long fingers holding her in a tight grip. The smell of lemon and beeswax polish wafted into her nose and she knew she’d never associate the scent with anything but him ever again. It sent a pleasurable little thrill through her and she nearly whimpered.

“I’m going to punish you for trying to run from me, of course.” He gave her head a little shake when she tried to protest. “Don’t lie to me, Miss French. It was written all over your face.”

He slid his hand from her jaw, moving it down the delicate skin of her neck to the top few buttons of her white blouse. He fingered them lazily, a growling hum escaping him.

“Is the rest of your skin such a lovely pale color as your neck, my dear?” He dropped his hand from her neckline to her waist, pulling her against him as he lowered his head to her neck, breathing her in and nuzzling his nose into her pulse point. “Or as soft?”

A liquid warmth flowed through her blood at his nearness, his touches. She’d long harbored a fascination for the unsociable landlord but had kept a wary distance, fearful that his bite was as bad as his bark.

She yelped when his nuzzling turned to a more punishing nip of her skin, the sting pulling her out of her reverie.

“We can’t have your attention wandering, Miss French,” he murmured, his breath hot in her ear. “How will you learn your lesson if you don’t pay attention?”

She whimpered, her hands coming up to grasp at the lapels of his dark suit coat, and he chuckled.

“Good girl.”

He set his mouth to her neck once more, sucking hard, and she knew there would be a mark the next day. She arched her neck, offering more of herself, baring her throat to his teeth in supplication.

He drew his tongue over her skin, moving to the other side to suck and bite, leaving a twin mark to the first he’d created. She moaned, deep and throaty, and he slid both arms around her, removing his mouth from her neck with a wet pop and pulling her flush against him.

She could feel how aroused he was, the thick, straining pressure hot against her even through their clothing, and she nearly went mad, wanting him naked and inside her without delay. She pawed at his clothing with both hands, trying to dislodge his coat, and whined when he grasped her hands and pulled them behind her back.

“Now, now, you greedy thing,” he purred. “This is a punishment, not a reward.”

Still grasping her hands, he maneuvered them around so she faced away from him, and slowly moved them towards the rough work table across from the entrance to the sales floor. He stopped her just before she had to bend over, the edge of the table digging into the front of her hips. He drew his free hand gently up the front of her body, plucking at the buttons of her blouse until several at the top were undone, exposing the white lace bra she wore underneath and the shallow dip between her breasts.

“Beautiful,” he whispered. “So pure and sweet. Such a shame you’re too naughty to deserve such a pretty thing to wear.”

He slipped his hand inside her shirt, releasing the catch that held her bra closed in the front, her breasts spilling out. He stroked one, focusing on her nipple, working it until it pebbled in his hands. She moaned, high and needy and he chuckled, twisting his fingers around her nipple until she gasped from the light pain.

He removed his hand from her and pressed her down to the table with it instead, the cool wood a shock against her flushed, exposed flesh. Her breath came in harsh, ragged gasps, anticipation making her toes curl inside her high heels.

She heard the whisper of sliding fabric and jolted when she felt him wrap a long, smooth length of material around her wrists, tying them snugly together. She realized it was his tie, and imagined the dark blue paisley standing out against the white skin of her wrists and hands. She was desperate to see him so undone behind her and groaned at the delicious sensation of being restrained, bent over the table and awaiting his punishment.

He stepped closer to her, nudging her legs apart with his foot and she complied readily, unsure of what awaited her but certain it would drive her mad.

Both his hands now free, he ran them down her arms, checking their tension before grasping the hem of her skirt and flipping it up, leaving her bare save for the scrap of white lace she’d chosen to wear under her skirt.

“A matching set, how delightful.” He ran a hand across her buttocks, his large, warm palm cupping and squeezing her, and she let out a little squeak at the sensation.

“Tell me, Miss French, do naughty women like you who try to run from their responsibilities deserve to wear such pretty lingerie?”

She rolled her forehead against the table with a groan, refusing to answer him, but her head jerked up with a gasp when she felt the first crack of his palm against the soft flesh of her rear.

“I asked you a question, Miss French. Do naughty women deserve such pretty things, more than likely bought with _my_ money?”

She growled, the heat and sting from his palm doing nothing to settle the desire threatening to consume her as she lay helpless across the table. She felt defiant in her frustration.

“I bought these myself, _Mr._ Gold,” she spat, pronouncing his name with a mocking lilt.

That earned her two hard slaps, one against each cheek. She yelped.

“Impertinence won’t get you leniency, my dear. Just an extra helping of your just desserts.” He stroked her stinging flesh, squeezing hard at her whimper. “Now answer my question.”

“No.”

“What was that?” She felt him lean closer to her. “What did you say?”

“I said no, Mr. Gold. Naughty women do not deserve _pretty_ things.” She paused. “Naughty women deserve _gorgeous_ things.”

He laughed and she nearly did, too, before she felt the flat of his hand give her another series of quick, hard smacks.

“You’ve got quite a clever mouth, Miss French. Perhaps we should put it to better use than talking back to me.”

He moved around to the front of the table, one hand reaching out to stroke the side of her face and she lifted her head to look up at him as best she could from her position. He kept stroking gently as he used his other hand to undo his fly and pull out his cock, the length of it swollen and dark red. The head glistened, wet with precum, and she licked her lips, her mouth watering at the sight.

He used his thumb to drag her lower lip down, opening her mouth, and when she was wide enough he pushed his cock into her, gliding smoothly across her tongue. She moaned around him, her eyes closing in bliss at the taste of him and she felt herself growing impossibly wet as he started thrusting gently.

She curled her tongue around him as best she could, hollowing her cheeks to suck him, keening moans escaping her mouth each time he withdrew. She lifted her eyes to his, trying to communicate what she wanted and her eyes rolled back in pleasure when she felt him thrust fully into her mouth, bumping gently against the back of her throat. Her breathing was momentarily constricted each time he thrust that deep but she loved it, wanted the thrill of it, wanted to drink him down as he came.

She heard his breathing grow harsh and ragged and all too soon he pulled away from her. She moaned at the loss and he chuckled.

“Greedy, aren’t you?”

“Very,” she retorted.

“And impertinent, too.” He tsked. “Whatever are we going to do with you, Miss French?”

She smirked against the table. “Fuck me, Mr. Gold?”

She heard his theatrical gasp before his hand connected once more with her ass, the sound sharper than the sting. “Such language from such a pretty mouth.” He hooked his fingers into the waistband of her underwear and tore them apart, jerking the pieces down her legs. “But if you insist.”

She whimpered in anticipation as he lined them up, letting out a long, low moan of satisfaction as he slid deep inside her.

“Gods, Belle, you’re so wet!” He rasped, beginning to thrust. “ _Jesus_.”

She pressed back against him as best she could, her frustration building at not being able to touch him properly. Her fingers grasped fitfully at nothing until he took pity on her, bringing one of his hands to hers and letting her grasp him. He used the grip as leverage, pulling on her hands to thrust harder into her.

She gloried in the intimate touch of his hand in hers even as he gripped her hard, the relentless pounding of his cock inside her drawing out rough, rasping moans from her throat. He slipped his free hand underneath her, his long fingers finding her clit, pressing and squeezing it in time with his thrusts.

Belle’s eyes fluttered closed, the pleasure of his hands on her and his cock inside her too much to bear and she felt herself falling dangerously quick towards a shattering orgasm. Her moans grew shorter, sharper the closer she came but just as she was about to break, he moved his fingers ever so slightly to the side of her clit, pressing and holding her on edge, and she nearly screamed with frustration.

“Oh, god. Please, _please_ …”

“Only good girls get to come, Miss French,” he rasped, breathless from exertion as he continued to fuck her hard. “Are you a good girl?”

She moaned, wriggling in an attempt to move his fingers back but he eluded her. His hand left hers and she felt him lean over her, his body pressing her harder into the table with each thrust, her mound cupped and held firm in his other hand.

“I said, are you a good girl?” He slowed his thrusting as he repeated his question and she whimpered, murmuring her response.

“I can’t hear you, Miss French.”

She groaned. “Yes, _yes,_ I’m a good girl. Please let me come!”

“That’s better.” She could hear the smirk in his voice.

He leaned back once more, moving his clever fingers back to where she needed them most. Her world centered on where they were joined, the feel of his cock sliding in and out of her and his hand slippery with her wetness swirling and pressing her clit, driving her insane.

“Are you close, Belle?” He gasped, his thrusts starting to grow erratic. “I can’t hold out much longer!”

“Yes, god, yes!” She shouted, throwing her head back as deep, shattering pulses of pleasure sent endless shocks through her body. She moaned, twitching as she chased after every last throb, her wrists straining against the restraint of his tie.

She felt him speed up his thrusts, both his hands grasping her hips in a punishing grip as he pumped through his orgasm, his shouts of pleasure laced with obscenities and her name. The hot spill of him inside her sent a shiver down her spine, making her arch a little before she let go and slumped in a boneless heap on the table.

He braced himself above her with both hands and she could hear his harsh breathing as he came down. She smiled, wiggling her fingers and he let out a breathless chuckle, using one hand to tear the tie off her and fling it away. She slowly moved her arms down, getting them used to normal movement again before she pushed herself upright.

He slipped out of her as she moved, and she saw him tuck himself away with a sheepish grin, flags of color high on his cheeks as he smiled. He reached down to pick up the scraps of lace he’d torn off her.

“I’m afraid I’ve ruined these. I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

Belle shrugged, leaning on the table and opening her arms to him. He wrapped his arms around her and she leaned against him, her ear over his heart, listening to the organ return to its normal pattern of beats.

“Oh, it’s fine. It’s not my favorite set.”

He hummed in response, dropping little kisses to the top of her head.

“Did you enjoy that?”

She pulled back, a wide smile on her face. “Oh yes, very much.” She snuggled back into him. “Thank you for indulging me,” she said with a happy sigh.

He chuckled. “I am more than happy to oblige you when you’re feeling naughty, sweetheart.”

She let out a contented little growl that turned into a yawn.

“Oh, goodness. Excuse me! I swear that’s not a comment on your lovemaking, Rumford.” She giggled and leaned back, taking him in.

“On the contrary,” he replied with a self-satisfied smirk. “I think it’s the perfect compliment.” He leaned in to steal a kiss. “Good to know I can still tire you out from time to time, wife.”

She laughed then cringed. “But my dialogue, though. It was awful, wasn’t it?” She covered her face with a hand. “Ugh, I am not good at improvisation at all.”

“It was charming.” He stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “You were in the moment, and mine wasn’t particularly inventive, either, I can admit.”

She bit her lip, trying and failing to hide a grin. “Well, yes. You know I love you, Rumford, but, ‘only whales have flukes’?” She raised her eyebrows playfully at him.

“Just be thankful I didn’t use the ‘pound of flesh’ comment I had brewing.”

She burst out laughing, loud and cheerful, and wrapped her arms around him, squeezing until she heard him grunt.

“I’m hungry from all that work,” she said. “I’ll clean up and lock the store and then we can get lunch? Fancy a burger from Granny’s?”

He leaned in, giving her a warm, soft kiss that finished with a nuzzle of his lips.

“Sounds perfect.”


	2. The Pawn Shop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle's turn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No BDSM in this one, just some good old fashioned bonin'.

Rumford silently cursed whomever convinced him to install that blasted bell over the door of his shop. The damn thing rang right as he was in the middle of working on an intricate, fussy timepiece. 

He got up to see who had dared to enter his lair, an insult at the ready as he pushed back the curtain that separated the workroom from the front.

“To what do I owe this displeasure--” He stopped abruptly when he saw who had come to visit.

Belle French smiled at him, blue eyes somehow shining brightly in the dim light of the pawnshop, her curls pulled over one shoulder to tumble down across the top of her little blue sleeveless sundress.

“Hello, Mr. Gold.” She bounced on the balls of her feet, her hands behind her back. “How are you today?”

He scowled at her. It didn’t matter how pretty she was, standing there in his entryway, she had interrupted his work and he was eager to get back to it.

“Busy, dearie, with a very sensitive piece of machinery. What do you want?”

Her eyes widened and an excited smile bloomed on her face.

“Oh! May I see what you’re working on?” She took a few steps closer, glancing at one of his display cases and pointing. “Is it something from here in the front?”

He scoffed. “No, Miss French. The delicate items are kept in the back, far from prying eyes and fingers.”

“Oh, I see,” she replied, tilting her head and regarding him with a curious expression, her curls brushing over her arm. “May I watch you work?”

He gulped as she drew nearer to him, her warm vanilla scent floating over him. “Y-you want to watch me work? Whatever for?”

She shrugged a bare shoulder. “I’ve always been curious as to how you do it.”

“Do what?”

She giggled, the low, throaty sound slinking down his spine. 

“How you take such delicate things and bring them humming to life again.” Her eyes flicked down to his hands, then slowly made their way back up to his eyes. “I’d love to see those hands at work.”

Her nearness bothered him in a very peculiar way. He frowned down at her, adopting his severest stern-landlord look.

“Fine. You may watch for a few minutes and then I’m sending you on your way.”

She clapped her hands in excitement. “Oh, how lovely. Thank you, Mr. Gold. I promise to be an absolute angel.”

He snorted. Somehow he doubted that.

He turned on his heel, leading her back to his desk and the careful arrangement of small watch parts clustered towards the center. He pulled out his chair and sat, tugging himself close to the desk and picking up a pair of tweezers.

“I’m afraid I haven’t an extra chair, Miss French, so you’ll have to stand if you want to watch.”

“That’s fine, Mr. Gold,” she chirped. “I don’t mind standing. My legs are strong.”

He nearly broke the tiny spring in his grip as her words sank into his head.

“Ah, y-yes. Good,” he said, taking a deep breath and willing his thoughts to settle.

He tugged the desk lamp closer to see better and bent over his work once more, trying to concentrate but failing miserably. He saw her lovely hands brace on the front of his desk and heard the wood creak ever so slightly as she leaned in to see what he was doing.

“ _ Oh _ ,” she breathed. “Everything is so tiny, and your hands are so big!”

He gulped.

She pointed one lovely finger at the tweezers he held in a death-grip.

“You have such a tight hold on that, Mr. Gold. What happens if you just relax a little and...let go?”

Her scent wafted over him again, warm and sweet, and his eyelids fluttered closed as he breathed her in.

“Don’t you want to just let go, Mr. Gold,” she whispered, leaning closer, “and see what happens?”

The sudden metallic ping of the spring flying across the room brought him crashing back to earth. He swore, casting his eyes about for the errant filament.

“Christ, now I’ll never find the bloody thing,” he growled.

She had the audacity to giggle at his plight, the one  _ she _ caused. His head jerked up, an insult at the ready, but she startled him into silence as she skirted around his desk and perched on the corner, bold as you please.

“Was that a terribly important piece, Mr. Gold?” she said, her lush mouth a little moue of worry. “I can help you look for it if you like.”

“N-no, dearie, that won’t be-”   


He was cut off as she hopped off his desk and dropped to the floor on her hands and knees. She started to crawl away from him, affording him a delightful view of her rear as she looked for the spring.

“I’m sure we’ll find it in no time, Mr. Gold!” she said, and there was that ridiculously arousing giggle again. “I’m nearly as tiny as that spring and can fit into all sorts of tight places.”

He nearly swallowed his tongue when she dropped her chest to the floor to look under a low shelf, leaving her buttocks high in the air. He caught a glimpse of black underwear with a white polka-dot pattern and felt all the blood rush from his head straight to his groin.

“M-miss French, there’s no need-”

She cut him off with a shout of triumph, pulling herself up and onto her knees, turning to face him.

“I found it!” She thrust out a hand, the tiny spring gripped between her thumb and forefinger, a smug grin lighting up her adorable face.

“Ah, thank you, Miss French.”

She shimmied closer on her knees, laying her hands low on his thighs and he jumped at the feel of her touch.

“You’re very welcome, Mr. Gold,” she said, smiling innocently before using his thighs as leverage to get herself to standing. She dusted off the front of her dress, moving to brush some more from her knees, and let out a little gasp.

“Oh no!”

He followed her eyes down to her knees and frowned, unable to see what her fuss was about. He didn’t have to search long. She moved back to his desk and perched on it once more, crossing her lovely legs one over the other and pointing to a small red spot on her top knee.

“Look what I’ve done.” She leaned in close, her full lips pursed in a sad pout. “I’ve injured myself.”

He swallowed hard, risking a glance at the smooth curve of her knee, the pale skin tempting him to kiss her, to worship her legs with his mouth and work his way up to--

“Will you kiss it and make it better?”

He jerked back, terrified he’d spoken aloud but when he looked at her face, she was all innocent, wide blue eyes and a tiny crease of distress on her brow. She pointed again to the mark on her knee and he looked. Sure enough, there actually was a tiny cut there and he frowned.

“I’m-I’m sorry, Miss French. I didn’t know there was anything on my floor that could have caused you injury.”

She shook her head, her curls swaying from the motion. “I’ll only forgive you if you kiss it and make it better.” 

She leaned back on her hands and uncrossed her legs, lifting the offended knee closer to his face. 

“Please?”

His heart started to pound fit to bursting and he swallowed, his mouth watering at the thought of using his mouth to soothe the little ache on her knee...and other places.

He took a deep breath, leaning in slowly and sliding his hands up her shapely calf to hold her, taking the weight of her leg as he lowered his mouth and pressed a small, soft kiss to the little scratch.

She let out a soft moan and he slid his chair closer, lowering her leg to rest her foot between his legs. The top of her foot arched high in her heels brushed against his groin and he groaned. He leaned in once more, daring to press a lush, open-mouthed kiss to the inside of her knee and his cock surged when he heard her gasp. He chanced a look at her and saw her eyes darkening with desire, her lower lip caught between her teeth and a frown of concentration on her perfect brow.

He nipped his way up the delicate skin inside her thigh, delighting in her gasps and whimpers, pushing the hem of her dress up as he went. She parted her thighs for him, scooting closer to the edge of the desk, and he switched to the other thigh, starting at her knee and working his way up.

When he reached her core, he flicked his eyes up to hers in silent permission. She smiled and nodded.

“Oh  _ yes _ , Mr. Gold.”

He grinned at her, adoring the way anticipation colored her words. He pushed her skirts to her hips, baring her to his eyes and chuckled at the picture she made with her whimsical underthings.

Hooking his fingers into the waistband, he pulled them gently down her legs and set them on a far corner of his desk. He brought his eyes back to her, licking his lips as he surveyed the vision before him. She was smooth, her skin a dusky pink with a neatly trimmed patch of dark curls at the top of her mound. He scooted closer, on the edge of his chair, and ran his hands up her thighs, admiring his darker skin against her pale loveliness.

He lifted both her legs to drape over his shoulders, once more kissing the inside of her thigh as he worked his way back up. When he reached her core again, he didn’t pause, instead pressing an open-mouthed kiss to her labia as he’d done to her knee.

She whimpered, bringing a hand to card through his hair and he moaned at her touch, opening his mouth on her once more and sliding his tongue between her labia to feast on her.

He growled at the wetness he found, pressing the flat of his tongue against her to better taste what she offered to him, relishing her breathy gasps and moans as he pleasured her.

He slid his tongue up, flicking it across her clit and she jerked, her thighs tightening briefly around his head. He did it several more times in succession, each time earning him a little squeak and a squeeze of her legs, and he would have happily died right there with her soft flesh surrounding him and her heady scent in his nose, her flavor on his tongue.

As he slid his mouth up to capture her clit with his lips, she gave up the fight to stay upright and lowered herself to the desk, dislodging the watch and sending several small pieces careening to the floor as she moved.

She turned her head with a gasp and reached out to prevent more damage to his project and he growled, latching onto her clit with a hard suck that had her back bowing, mewling cries escaping her beautiful mouth.

“Leave it,” he snarled, his voice slightly muffled to his own ears but he knew she understood.

She lay back, her head almost hanging off the edge, the hand not buried in his hair squeezing one of her breasts. He watched her play with herself for a moment, his lips and tongue keeping her on the edge as he looked his fill of her.

He doubled his efforts, suddenly desperate to make her come apart, to make those beautiful legs of hers quiver and shake against him, to be her anchor in an onslaught of sensation.

He latched onto her clit once more and brought up a hand, sliding two fingers deep inside her and curling them. She shouted, her back arching, her hand dislodging from her breast, and he reveled in the glory of her.

He worked her hard, encouraged by her increasingly loud moans and the desperate press of her hand against his head. He felt her begin to pulse around his fingers and kept the pace, his entire world focused on pleasing the woman in his arms. 

She came with a long string of loud moans, each one in time with a pulse he felt around his fingers. He kept sucking her clit, drawing out her orgasm until she laughed breathlessly and begged him to stop.

He finished with a nuzzling kiss on her labia and pulled back, gently sliding her legs off his shoulders and settling them on his desk. He pushed himself up and out of the chair, leaning over her on the desk and she smiled at him, still panting from exertion.

He grinned back at her, smug and self-satisfied until he felt her small hand playing at the front of his trousers.

His eyes widened; he hadn’t been expecting that, but he helped her regardless as she struggled to sit up and watched, fascinated, as her small hands made quick work of his button and fly.

He groaned as she reached inside his boxers and wrapped her cool hands around his cock, giving him a few shallow pumps, his eyes fluttering closed at the white-hot pleasure threatening to consume him.

She pumped him a few more times before gently pushing him into his chair and standing over him.

His gaze was unfocused as she straddled him and took his face in her hands, pressing a lush kiss to his slack mouth. She’d been the one to come first yet somehow he was the boneless heap as her tongue skillfully fenced with his. When she drew out, he followed, desperate for more of the teasing suction of her mouth. She chuckled against his lips, setting him back in the chair, and then reached for the hem of her dress, pulling it up and over her head in one smooth motion.

Her bra matched her underwear and he chuckled, the sound turning into a strangled groan as she reached behind her and unhooked the clasp, removing it and tossing it to the side of the room.

She was finally gloriously nude, straddling his lap and he was ready to burst like an untried youth.

She lifted herself, lining them up before sinking down onto him with a long, low groan of relief. His eyes rolled back at the feel of her, silken wet walls enveloping his cock in a tight sheath, and his hips jerked of their own accord.

She whimpered, biting her lip, and he brought a hand to cup her face, using his thumb to dislodge her lip and replace it with his own, giving her a deep, hard kiss as he splayed the other hand low on her back, pressing and encouraging her to move against him.

She began to rock back and forth, the slide of her hips driving him insane and the bounce of her small, firm breasts so close to his face the sweetest torture.

He worked a hand between them, sliding a thumb around her clit and felt her jerk at the sensation, her inner walls clenching around him and pulling a shout from his throat.

She leaned forward, grasping his shoulders, her face close enough to his that he could feel the puff of her breath as she worked him. He could tell she was close again, her walls fluttering deliciously around him, and sped up the movement of his thumb, wanting to climax with her this time. 

The fluttering grew more intense, and he felt his balls draw up, fire lancing in his belly as he neared orgasm. A few more flicks of his thumbs and she was sobbing her pleasure into his neck, her channel tightening around him as she continued to thrust in erratic little circles. Her cries drove him over the edge and he came with a desperate shout, clutching her to him with the arm still around her waist, thrusting into her as far as he could go and emptying himself inside her.

She slumped against him, utterly spent, and he wrapped his other arm around her, holding her to him and stroking her back as she calmed.

After a few moments, he heard her give a contented little purr and he smiled.

“That was even better than  _ my  _ idea.”

He chuckled, kissing her temple. “We’ve certainly improved our dialogue.”

She laughed, snuggling against him contentedly. “Mmm, we have.”

A sudden unpleasant thought struck him.   


“Sweetheart, I didn’t see you lock the door. Did you?”

She lifted her head, her eyes mischievous. “Of course. I always lock the door. I did it right as you turned to walk back here.”

“Quick little thing,” he said, grinning.

“Especially in heels like these,” she retorted.

He pulled her in again, wrapping his arms comfortably around her, and nuzzling into her hair.

“So, my love, what shall it be next time?”


End file.
